And yes, I was one of the ones whose immediate reaction was to do just that, from atop a rather tall equine.
And then a couple of commenters went even further, reminding us that a magic "adult" switch doesn't flip on when a student turns 18, or registers for their first class. And it hit me that I've become a bit too cynical. So I'm reprinting my comment here, since it's something that I'm now going to do some thinking about:
I’m really enjoying reading these comments, especially Emily’s, and now Leslie’s, both of which are reminding me that adulthood isn’t an instantaneous process, and there’s a big difference between a student (especially a first- or second-year student) who contacts parents frequently for advice or searching for validation, and a student or parent who expects that the parent will always run interference, absolving said student of any responsibility for his/her actions, and preventing hir from growing up.
Here’s where I’ll take my stand, at least for the moment: from the outside (that is, from a professor’s point of view), it’s very difficult to tell the difference between the two, since we only see part of the picture. And since a few bad encounters (“my dad’s a lawyer!”) tend to make us a bit cynical, we assume the worst when confronted with partial evidence.
I’m therefore going to try to do a reversal on my own reactions, and try to assume that a student is the former type, unless they’re proven to be the latter. This will be a trial run.
I really do think I've become too cynical in my approach to teaching, assuming that, without a whole bag of carrots and sticks, my students will not read, or care, or do anything but take shortcuts. But I never wanted to be that professor, and I still don't. I don't need to turn into a Pollyanna to admit that it's time for a change in my own approach.
I'll let you know how it goes.
UPDATE: Emily posts in the comments about a post that Tenured Radical wrote a while back about developing a less cynical approach, and it's definitely worth a read, so I'm linking to it here.
8 comments:
Oh, I'm glad you clarified. Because I totally was calling you "Polyanna" mentally all this time. :)
I really appreciate this post, and I want to think about it in my own pedagogy! It also (tangentially) reminded me of one of Tenured Radical's posts in which she wrote about developing a less cynical attitude toward students, a post that has really stuck with me:
http://tenured-radical.blogspot.com/2009/02/excuses-excusesexcused.html
I guess I always assumed students would not do the required work without carrots and sticks. But I think that's different from assuming they aren't independent at all or that it's particular to this generation. Or that more involved parents makes them less as people. Still, I am with you on hoping to be less cynical and working on giving people the benefit of the doubt more often. That can never be a bad thing.
I read What the Best College Teachers Do last year and was inspired to reconsider many of my more jaded teaching strategies:
http://www.amazon.com/What-Best-College-Teachers-Do/dp/0674013255
Amstr, I'll check it out. I know no one's approach works for everyone, but I'm interested in ideas.
NNR: of course you were.
And the rest of you: I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one trying to retool.
Notorious, I wonder if the state of the profession isn't one thing that contributes to cynicism, tiredness, etc. And that requires reconnecting with teaching.
Hi Susan!
You're right, of course: it's hard to talk yourself into doing more when your work is being valued less. But my sabbatical semester has pulled me out of the fray enough so I can actually think about approaching teaching again with a fresh perspective.
That alone ought to be an argument for sabbaticals.
The medical and graduate students I teach in the classroom are so highly motivated to master the material, that I have never had to deal with this. But it seems to me that it would take all the fun out of teaching if you have to play a carrot-and-stick game.
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